Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B
Reflecting on Is. 35: 4-7a
Two weeks ago, I had an unforgettable experience. August 23rd, the feast day of St. Rose of Lima, set off a weekend of joyful reunions at St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church in Denver. The parish celebrated its one-hundredth-year anniversary. The little church with the big heart, sitting snugly in the Platte River Valley, has been home to various ethnic groups—-from its German founders to its present, vibrant Hispanic community—and hundreds of “legacy families” that filled the pews for generations.
The word “grace” means “undeserved kindness.” During the 1980s, I had the grace to serve on the staff at this uniquely loving parish. Coming back after several decades, I was nearly lifted into the air by the stunning congregational singing at the joyous anniversary Mass. But why was I crying so uncontrollably, that evening and well into the next day? It was because the scales fell off my eyes, and my deaf ears were opened. I saw and heard all the loving family and friends, many deceased, many still alive, who had been so present to me during those years.
I saw every dear choir member who gave up so many precious evenings in order to learn music for the beautiful Sundays we shared at St. Rose. I saw those gorgeous “sock hops” we had in the gym, colors swirling through the room, the live band keeping hundreds of dancers going ‘til the late hours.
I saw the beloved bishop of our Archdiocese, coming home from the chancery and checking in with each of the housekeeper’s kids. I saw a great cloud of witnesses to those one hundred years. I hear their voices even now.
Close your eyes and see the ancestors who built your parish. Say, thank you.
Kathy McGovern ©2024